


And Your Name Was?

by Euhines



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Chubby McCree, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Healthy Relationships, Latinx McCree, M/M, McGenji Week, Mutual Pining, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-24 05:07:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8358514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Euhines/pseuds/Euhines
Summary: No matter what life McCree and Genji live, every path leads to each other.





	1. touch

Expressing feelings has never been Genji’s forte in recent years. Unlike Lena, he does not paint his life with loud laughter and wide smiles. Or Hanzo who has fluid grace backed by a raging storm of narrowed eyes and deadly arrows. Genji’s story is kept hidden within the scars that mar what is left of his body. His mirth, longing, and vehemence are reserved, tucked in the space between his silver armor and cybernetic skin. Zenyatta has done much to coax him, to bring him out of the shell that he curled himself into, but it was mostly fruitless. Of course Genji is neither emotionless nor a cold, heartless man. Part of him is still, in fact, human, and his heart is his mind. Genji still indulges in festivities and cracks a joke more than once in a day. However, he tries his best to never lower his guard and make himself vulnerable.

That all unfortunately goes down the drain when he and McCree reunite.

Genji is unsure how it all starts, but he can pinpoint a second that nearly overloaded his circuitry. They had met before he left Overwatch, two friends molded by mutual trust and duty. Genji doesn’t know much of McCree—only general information from Angela here or there—but his presence was often appreciated back then despite appearing rarely due to Blackwatch. And yet something feels different when they first shake hands, McCree tipping his hat and voicing his delight in seeing Genji again. Genji feels his heart skip a beat, a stutter that sounds like breaking glass within his ears along with a silent _oh no_. He can barely utter a response, swallowing as if wet concrete lines his throat, and McCree thankfully doesn’t notice. His arm stays outstretched when McCree walks away to greet the others, as if he is reaching for a dream that's brushing tauntingly at his fingertips. Like a whisper of a breeze, asking and pleading to be chased. That is their first touch.

A problem is realized when Genji finds himself yearning for something he’s only felt once. Touch is rather complicated with his sensors; it is only a small pressure, an indication that something is there depending on the weight. Jesse hand in his own is a gentle vibration, a squeeze around his digits like tightening ribbons across his knuckles that leave him wanting more. At times Genji clenches his fist to somehow recreate the feeling. It’s like he’s grasping a star, trying to absorb its fire as if it will fill the emptiness within him. When one day McCree’s hand softly grazes his back as an attempt to get past him, the pressure sinks into Genji’s artificial bones and turns them ivory—for a moment wholly human once more.       

From the want comes the need. Genji cannot be more obvious the way he chooses to stand beside McCree or when Zenyatta has to kindly remind him that staring is rather unnerving and impolite. He feels like a child on a playground, hiding behind a slide as his crush kicks at sand. Childishness is something he left behind once his brother raised his blade against him. A mission that goes awry leads to an explosion that promptly knocks Genji out. He awakens to whatever is left of his arms resting on McCree’s shoulders and his legs secured by McCree’s arms beneath his knees. Genji can barely registers he is in massive amounts of pain, but the warm throb across his chest where the curve of McCree’s back fits perfectly makes it all go away. He can only hope that it is not a sign of his systems malfunctioning.

And from the need comes the avoidance. Genji inwardly scolds himself for acting so careless within McCree’s presence. The pining is hopefully only temporary, and the best course of action is to simply ignore it. Genji tries to push it away, tracing his steps back and forth until there is nothing but black footprints over his heart. He keeps his greetings polite, short, and to the point. McCree is rather confused over Genji’s rigid posture and dry tone. It is much like when they first met ten years ago, but this is abrupt, out of place. Only intended for strangers. He moves away whenever McCree looks like he’s reaching out or even close enough so that their pinkies brush. Genji never notices McCree’s hurt expression; the downturned lips, the furrowed eyebrows.

Somewhere from afar Zenyatta places his face in his hands: the universal sign of frustration.

It’s a shame that McCree knows how to be persistent. Genji has to keep from screaming when the man turns up no matter where he goes. Winston seems to always pair them together, sending them out to cities alone where McCree has no idea what his touches and whispering into Genji’s ear does to the cyborg. Perhaps he is very well aware. A decision to split up one night during a mission leads to a gunshot in McCree’s side. As much as Genji wants to touch him again, he doesn’t mean it like this, holding McCree close as his blood drips between the spaces of Genji’s fingers. The pressure of blood is like grating sand that slowly rolls off; each grain digs deep and prickles every pore. It makes Genji want to throw a fit, to tear out his hair and stab everything in his path if it means absorbing McCree’s pain. And as McCree rests in a hospital bed, Genji softly traces McCree’s prosthetic arm, taking in the skull that gleams dangerously before a kill. When McCree awakens, they chat quietly, although it seems more one sided as Genji just hums and nods. McCree’s laugh is warm, careless, and free despite the cold response; the bullet hole in his side is just another Tuesday, and nothing can dampen his spirits. Or at least, Genji thinks so.

Genji wants that laugh all to himself, to trap it in a jar like a firefly and watch it glow like his own personal star. But for when it's something that matters most, Genji has never been good at being selfish. It is best he let that firefly roam free and have the broken glass gather in his palms.  

Actual confrontation comes at the dusk of the spring equinox weeks later. Genji is overlooking the waters surrounding Watchpoint: Gibraltar. His visor is lifted, eyes and scars reflecting the orange glow that embraces his armor and the ground beneath his feet. McCree approaches with cautious steps; the sound of spurs alerting Genji of his approaching. There's a hesitation, a split-second decision in McCree’s gaze. His voice is a smooth cadence that sounds like dripping honey and vibrant meadows to Genji’s ears. He practically melts when McCree tenderly places his hand on his arm and says his name again. McCree’s brown fingers curling against his wrist is soft as summer drizzle. The pressure is that of morning dew dropping onto a small leaf. Genji breathes in hard, crisp rough air that scrapes at his throat and tastes heavy on his tongue. McCree is well aware of his affect on him. One thing leads to another, and Genji can barely speak when McCree’s fingertips touch his face. He nearly loses all sense of self when they kiss; McCree’s lips mold over his own, settling, sweet and warm.

Genji has never been one to play with fire until he one day breathes in ash and it smells like home. He discovers that everything about McCree is light, swift, and wondrous. Bright, but not dangerous to burn. They’re leaning against a railing on a cliff beneath the black blanket of sky, side by side so that their legs press and their elbows brush. A minuscule throb creeps from Genji’s wrist to his shoulder. Conversations about missions disintegrate into long descriptions of their homes, dreams, and past mistakes. At one point Genji presses his cheek against McCree’s shoulder, sapping the heat it provides. McCree confesses he likes to touch because it helps ground him when he's aiming too high. Genji confesses that he only likes to touch him.

Together they watch the sun rise scarlet on the horizon, streaks of firelight and energy that makes toes curl in anticipation—a star on the verge of exploding.

Nothing can get past Zenyatta and despite his inability to make facial expressions, he looks rather smug when he finds the two fast asleep against a wall, serape wrapped around their shoulders and pinkies laced in a delicate dance.


	2. alternatue universe

Everyone on Earth is born with a superpower, a natural gift. To be brought into the world without the ability to cause earthquakes with a single stomp or even move objects with sheer willpower is considered a tragedy. Better luck next time. Powers have been proved to be a reflection of one’s personality; there are scientists who believe powers are an extension of a person’s soul, molded by character and values. Powers can determine strength: those who are bold, yet careless often have fire blazing out of their palms, and those who find peace in balance and harmony manipulate water as if it is nothing. However, anyone who has a power closely linked to death or even resurrection is either executed immediately or enrolled into Overwatch, an organization backed by the United Nations that utilizes these abilities to make the world a better place. Doctor Angela Zieglar is one of these people.

Overwatch calls these powers evolution, a step towards shedding dependency on Mother Nature and eliminating her disasters that leave countries in ruins. Jesse McCree has come to believe it is an abomination, a curse that was once a miracle. The United Nations writes the laws and dictates rules and regulations. Overwatch is the enforcer. Blackwatch is the sharp scythe who terminates anyone who is deemed as too dangerous. Whether to the world or to them, no one knows.

Jesse was born with lightning at his fingertips. His right eye glows golden, gleaming like that of Zeus’s thunderbolts. As a teenager he spent his life underground, in caves, as he fueled New Mexico’s lights, even as his knees grew weak and dirt painted itself across his cheeks. He was supposed to live and die down there, alone, even as electricity crackles from his wrinkled hands and wraps around his neck like a snake. Deadlock recruited him as a means to take over New Mexico. He only joined because he felt he had no choice. Gabriel Reyes, someone who can manipulate shadows and even hide within them, had been kind enough to pluck him out of it. But despite Gabriel’s good intentions, Jesse is not sure if he was truly saved.

In Blackwatch he meets Genji Shimada, a cyborg who can shapeshift into a sparrowhawk at will. Stealth and assassination missions are Genji’s specialty, but from the rings around his eyes and the scars that litter his face, Jesse can tell Genji is just as trapped as he is. Over the months they seek comfort within each other, picturing the freedom they so desperately crave through the spaces between their fingers when they hold hands. He finds someone who understands. Genji’s smile holds heaven upon soft lips and affection pushing the corners upwards. Jesse cannot call it love, but the thought of wanting to run away with someone is rather close.  

Gabriel is their voice of reason and anchor to a bitter reality, he knows of their wants to get away from it all. There are whispers of  _eventually_ and  _hopefully._ Gabriel even confesses the are times he wants to escape too. But when he learns of their relationship, he warns them that emotions can affect powers, cause them to malfunction for even a split second. His eyes had been cold and dark when he speaks, as if he is remembering something from a long time ago. Jesse knows exactly what he means; at times when he kisses Genji, lightning gathers from beneath his fingernails and shoots straight into a nearby lamp. His passion gathers storm clouds, and his anger causes blackouts. Jesse is unsurprised when Gabriel reveals that Overwatch originally wanted a bullet in his brain as his powers developed.    

So all Jesse does for now is dream. He dreams as he lays in bed with Genji in his arms, fingers running through the damp green strands. He dreams of the rush of freedom that crackles through his veins as naturally as electricity. He and Genji will live in a small home with a white picket fence, a dog or two running the backyard where an apple tree stands tall. The summer winds will blow against his face in a gentle caress and will never become a harsh gust. Birds chirp, and the sun warms the grass that only gets greener. Something catches in Jesse’s throat: it’s a part of him that still resonates with duty and order, a part of him that he was molded into when he was younger. But the overwhelming pressure at the back of his head that wants him to run and escape is stronger, and he turns to Genji and tells him he loves him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i honestly wish i could produce longer content but, school is ass unfortunately


	3. domestic

When Genji stares out the window, he notices the fresh bite of approaching autumn, made obvious by the sinking afternoon sun. White sheets crumple to violent wrinkles as he curls his metal fingers in them. Outside strangers meet and part ways in intersections. The city inhales dust and fumes and spits out distracted citizen attempting to get through the day. Multicolor leaves still hanging onto green cascade down onto the sidewalks. Cars grumble and roar their way past rusted signs. But for Genji, today is a lazy fog where he can’t fathom the idea of getting out of bed as heat floods them through the ventilation. Jesse snores beneath him, his stomach serving as Genji’s pillow, soft and warm against his scarred cheek. Jesse’s even breathing synchronizes with his own. The graveyard shift, although few and far between, left Jesse absolutely exhausted when he arrived mere hours before, barely able to put on his pajamas before he passed out at Genji’s side. Genji hadn’t even opened an eye and simply gathered Jesse into his arms with his head resting below Jesse’s chin. As if it was always meant to be there.

The sound of a violin comes from the other side of the wall. Brown, lithe fingers are most likely dancing across the surface of a violin’s neck, holding it firmly yet gently as it would a lover. Their bedroom fills with the tune sung by the delicate instrument, casting a magical spell on all those who listen, but Genji finds it oddly amusing that it does not wake Jesse from his dreams. Their neighbor, Satya Vatswani, usually plays for the both of them, standing in the middle of her living room as Jesse and Genji make themselves at home on her couch. But today she is only background music, a gentle hum, a draft of whole notes and a metronome. G sharp, down bow, fluctuation of pitch. With half-lidded eyes, Genji pictures the two of them in the kitchen, practically dancing as they avoid crashing into one another. Genji already smells the warm coffee pot, a necessity Jesse needs every time he awakens, a mug clutched in his fingers before the coffee maker is turned on. Breakfast will already be decided with pancakes since the two are unfortunate disasters that can’t handle anything more than that. They will share a kiss, one that will take Genji’s breath away and bring a smile to his face that almost hurts, but he will still ask for another. He always does. And Jesse will indulge him with a laugh, swooping down to press his lips onto Genji’s once more before he’s screaming about the burning pancakes.

Genji is taken out of his reverie when Jesse rasps out a _good morning_ and touches Genji's cheek with two fingers _._ Genji snorts while raising his head to remind his husband that they are well into the afternoon despite what his brain thinks. Jesse clicks his tongue and tries to fix his wild bed hair, murmuring about night being day and day being night for a man like him. Genji can barely hold back his laughs at Jesse’s failed attempts and is met with warm hands immediately tickling at his sides. The violin that coaxed Jesse from his sleep gently fades off, replaced with love and camaraderie that bounce off the walls. Simply another day in the McCree-Shimada household.


	4. reunion

Gibraltar’s watchpoint is devoid of man made noise around this time of day, but nature slyly creates a symphony in its place. The ocean's orchestra thunders in waves, beating its way to the shore only to get pulled back into the crystal blues. Seagulls above flap their wings in duple meter while crabs in the sand below wave their claws as conductors. Jesse McCree silently takes it all in, the mornings that never seem to change, inhaling seawater and tobacco, exhaling smoke and past mistakes. Sometimes he’s ready to crawl out of his own skin and fit inside another just for a change of scenery. His rosary is in his left hand, cradled delicately between metal fingers. He doesn’t know what he’s praying for, but he prays for something every day. He puts out his cigarillo and wonders how long he can stand there before the sun becomes unbearable.

Jesse barely notices the lithe fingers that dance up his spine, managing to push through his serape but not dig into his skin. The warmth they leave behind resemble echoes in a canyon, slowly fading away once each finger moves on to the next part of him. Jesse’s name is softly spoken from lips he has not kissed in a long time, and arms wrap around his waist as a shield from the maladies of the world. He hopes that Genji can’t feel his racing heart through the layers of muscle, bone and skin. Love he once thought dormant precipitates from every part of his being. Without all of the things that he’s good at, Jesse doesn’t think there’s much else that anyone could love him for. But Genji proved that wrong, long ago, beneath a moonless sky where he breathed affection from his damaged lungs and laced their fingers together to make sure they perfectly fit. That memory rushes into Jesse all at once, and he doesn’t know why he’s crying as he turns and presses Genji’s face into his chest.

Their reunion is almost bittersweet; the rosary falls from his hand and lands on concrete as a blessing to the flowers that cannot grow underneath. Jesse doesn’t really know what to say, an  _ I love you _ resides at the back of his mouth while the tip of his tongue has the ashes of his cigarillo and the wrong words. Genji tenderly tells him that doesn’t have to say anything, reading him like a book he finally picks up after years of letting it gather dust within a bookshelf. Jesse tries to hold back a laugh, resting his cheek on top of Genji’s head, believing the green strands to be the grass back in Santa Fe. He doesn’t know how long they stand there, holding one another as if they’ll disappear. Even when the air seems to vibrate, everything too tight around him, Jesse never lets go. He doesn’t think he can this time.


	5. family

In Hanamura, spring has come late this year, and winter melts into March, a soft trickling of snow dripping from the bare branches of trees. Genji resolves on biting on the insides of his cheeks as he remembers the photo of him and Hanzo in his room in Nepal. The scratches upon its surface make him wince, looking much like wounds from a quarrel; a prized possession that resembles his own face. The smiles that stared back at him for years has his heart wrenching with nostalgia and concealed rage. He can hear his grandmother’s voice at the back of his head: _families are built to last._ Genji isn’t very comfortable with calling her a liar, but he does it anyway.

McCree is to his right, shoulder resting against hard bark, more emotional support than his mission partner at this very moment. He remains silent, never judging, never asking. Genji steps forward as breathes McCree’s name like a prayer he’s using to wash away the sins. Genji can barely choke out how much he misses Hanzo, how much he even hates him despite forgiving Hanzo the moment he placed his blade to Hanzo’s neck. The cut a sword makes across skin is as thick as the fine line between wanting to forgive someone and feeling like you have to. The winds bites at his scars as he removes his visor and lets it fall at his feet. An echo of his mother stands in front of him, her delicate hands clutching smoldering anise as a look of grief mars her face. She disappears into the last traces of winter and stays there. His father remains a painting on the wall to be remembered once a year. Family formed by blood is complicated and exhausting. There are days where Genji thinks Hanzo died along with him ten years ago, only existing as some shadow that Genji can ignore when he wants to. Encouraging words come from behind him, embracing him and settling in his bones. McCree becomes an anchor that reminds him he’s still human despite all that has occurred. Forgiveness comes in ounces, love comes in steps.

Genji turns and McCree’s still leaning against the tree, the sun shining down soft and gentle on his brown face and he looks so lovely, so honest. Genji moves to put his hand on the back of McCree’s neck, staring intently into his eyes. A small nod from McCree is enough for Genji gaze up and press his lips onto McCree’s, hard enough to tell him things he can’t say with words. Because things like _I love you_ and _thank you_ won’t suffice. Genji chooses to briefly forget about Hanzo, his father, his last name. All he is worried about is McCree who is smiling the same smile that warms Genji's cheeks and makes him stumble over his words. Maybe this family can start with two.


	6. laughter

McCree’s war cry is promptly muffled by a mouthful of snow before he comically slips and falls onto the cold grass and slush. The tops of his cheeks and tip of his nose are burning; the air is brisk and the wind merciless despite the sun high in the sky. It doesn’t help that Genji keeps intimately introducing McCree’s face to the white devil. He frowns, eyes clenched shut to stop seeing stars, and listens to the soft crunching footfalls of Genji drawing near. He thinks about just lying there dramatically on his back to make Genji believe he’s dead. His luck only gets worse from there when a pile of snow drops on top of him from a branch above.

Concern weaves its way through the syllables of McCree’s name, but Genji doesn’t seem all too worried as he runs to where McCree’s body was last seen. He crouches, face visorless but protected by his orange scarf, and softly pats away some snow to reveal a part of a cowboy boot. Genji sniggers as he touches it, watching it twitch in response.

An organism resembling Jesse McCree plops out of the snow mound, arms straight out like a zombie; his hat is missing, and his hair is plastered to his face making him resemble a mop. His clothing is completely drenched, and his scarf is wet and heavy around his neck. His future looks bleak, filled with chicken soup, stuffed noses, and several grandma remedies. The look McCree gives Genji causes any common criminal to run for the hills, but all it does is make Genji laugh. He falls back, unable to balance on his heels as he clutches his sides. McCree grumbles softly as he tries his hardest to push himself out of the snow. Genji reaches over to help him out, but that proves fruitless when they both topple over back into the mound. McCree can barely contain his own snort as Genji begins to wheeze with tears gathering in his eyes as he buries his face in McCree’s chest. The two are a mess of tangled limbs and sweaty, humorous faces. The cold is nearly forgotten until a particular breeze presses against them and wracks their bodies with shivers.

McCree softly kisses the corner of Genji’s mouth and suggests that they should continue their snowball fight another day. Genji thankfully agrees, and after detangling themselves, they make their way back home. McCree calculates his chance of survival as Genji walks ahead by a couple steps, unaware of McCree’s plan as he hums to himself with his hands clasped behind his back. The cyborg stumbles forward when a snowball connects to the back of his head, and he hisses as the snow slides down his nape and into his hoodie. He nearly falls face first because they’re on a hill and gravity unfortunately exists. It’s McCree’s turn to guffaw, pointing as he doubles over with one hand on his stomach. It is Genji’s turn to give him a dry look, bending down to grab a fistful of snow to get his revenge.  

The snowball fight resumes with genuine, loud laughter, affectionate insults, and Genji doing his best to shove McCree’s face into the snow every chance he gets. McCree regrets all of it when he’s stuck in bed for a week, but maybe it isn’t so bad when Genji stays at his bedside and tenderly threads his fingers through McCree’s hair.


	7. supernatural

Genji Shimada, supernatural hunter extraordinaire. It has a nice ring to it, rolling off the tongue and towards his heart where pride threatens to overspill through the spaces of whatever is left of his ribcage. The cyberization of most of his body is still something he doesn’t fully understand nor truly accept, but when the flashlight in his hand begins to flicker and slowly leave him in absolute darkness, perhaps the title will mean nothing once he is dead. Genji blinks blearily at the dark skies above him, his eyelids almost drooping to a close from exhaustion, thinks: _Maybe I should have stopped a long time ago_. The search for Hanzo had gone cold, and Genji’s chances of finding him have slimmed to nothing. His brother’s demonic possession had scarred Genji physically and emotionally, leaving him an empty husk who found himself killing monsters as a way to cope.

But after the days of feeling the damp soil enter through the crooks and crevices of his prosthetic legs, and his body feeling like lead—too heavy and too painful to be moved, he met Jesse McCree. Their first meeting had gone as disastrous as any could go, where snowflakes greeted the first day of winter. Genji never knew how hard a Bible could hit until it collided with the side of his face, knocking his head back before it hit the ground with a hard thud. And he is absolutely positive it took thirty minutes to convince Jesse that _no, I am not a ghost_ and _yes, I promise not to eat your soul._ There was an instant attraction then, subtle but it was there when the two realized how ridiculous the situation had been; an attraction which lasted through multiple obstacles and endless hardships and led them to where they now laid: another cold winter where Genji and Jesse begin and end beneath the piling snow. Jesse is also a supernatural hunter, but the way he goes about it is less professional than Genji, hence the bible throwing. But the two make quite the team.

Genji sucks in a sharp breath when a hand encircles his right wrist, but relaxes into the touch when he recognizes the pressure of metal against metal. The flashlight stops flickering when he turns to see Jesse with sticks and brown leaves in his hair. The corners of Genji’s mouth stretch into a thin smile because he’s not quite sure whether he should be amused or worried. They were long past the stage of requiring words to get their point across; understanding came as naturally as breathing. His concerned expression leads to a brief, gentle kiss from Jesse, and it breathes relief into him as much as it should. When Jesse pulls away, he carefully asks Genji if he has been successful in his latest job. Genji snorts and tells him the only thing scary within the forest is his own thoughts. The dry look Jesse gives him is as comical as the response Genji gave.

The latest hunt is over the sightings of a werewolf near Forest Hills, Pennsylvania who had been leaving bodies of deer and scaring the locals. Genji finds the whole thing to be suspicious, unsure as to why anyone would be afraid of a werewolf that has never took a human life. It gets even weirder whenever Genji brings it up to Jesse, only to receive vague answers and quick shrugs that change the topic before Genji realizes anything. But instead of investigating further into Jesse’s strange behavior, Genji decided to brush it off and focus on the job at hand.

It’s rather unfortunate that Genji has no idea he’s chasing his own boyfriend.   


End file.
